


Mercy, Part Two

by Lady_Akuma_Wolf



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Suicide, Missing scene-ish, Other, Protective Matt, Suicidal Foggy, Suicide by superhero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Akuma_Wolf/pseuds/Lady_Akuma_Wolf
Summary: Original Summary from inspired work: Foggy has a few secrets of his own that he’s kept from Matt for years. He thought he knew how Matt would react when he found out.He had no idea.This Fic: Matt, on the other hand, has the worst night of his life since he lost his father.This is Matt's POV of the original - please read that first!!Original story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359305
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Mercy, Part Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mercy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359305) by [Mimnerme1860](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimnerme1860/pseuds/Mimnerme1860). 
  * Inspired by [Mercy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359305) by [Mimnerme1860](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimnerme1860/pseuds/Mimnerme1860). 



> I tried to contact the original author a couple of times over the past few months but never heard back, so am assuming the account is 'abandoned', but I love their fic so much that I wanted to write it from Matt's POV.
> 
> MUST READ THAT FIC FIRST!!!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack, arguing, attempted suicide via superhero, reference to past depression and self-harm.

Matt hadn't been expecting to hear an all-too-familiar heartbeat when he landed noiselessly on the roof of his apartment, ignoring the mild bite of pain of his twisted angle, the heartbeat recognizable over the buzz of the huge billboard, traffic, and a distant, playful argument of a young couple regarding the middle name of their first child.

The heartbeat wasn’t steady; no, it was fast, anxious, and concerning.

He opened the roof-access door almost silently, not wanting to startle Foggy; he must have heard the soft squeak because his heartrate skyrocketed further.

“Foggy?” he asked, concerned as he inhaled deeply, trying to tell if there was anything unusual he needed to be aware of; was Foggy hurt? Did someone threaten him? He was alone at least, but Matt was still worried. “What’s wrong?” Another inhale gave him sweat, and the sharp tang of metal and oil; a gun. “And why do you have a gun?”

Foggy took a deep, shaky breath. “Matt, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I think that we should talk.”

Matt hesitated for a moment, his concern growing by the moment before he crossed the living area with ease and sat down on the couch opposite of Foggy’s position on a chair, balanced on the edge as he waited to hear what had his friend so upset.

Foggy huffed angrily. “For God’s sake, take off that mask. I need to talk to _you_ , Matt, not… _him_.”

“Sorry, Foggy,” Matt murmured, glad the mask still hid the wince that crossed his face; he should have known better. He knew Foggy was still unnerved by his... abilities... though he had been doing his best lately.

If possible, Foggy’s heartrate went even higher as he started talking. “I’ve told you before that my mother wanted me to be a butcher. That was the truth. But you’ve never met my mother, so you couldn’t possibly have understood what she actually meant when she said that.” Foggy paused, swallowing hard, grip unconsciously tightening on the sweaty grip of the gun. “My mother’s name is Rosalind – Rosalind Sharpe.”

Matt felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You’re - you’re with the _Irish?_ The Mob?”

Had they threatened Foggy? Threatened Karen? Him? He hurriedly listened for the approach of anything which would warrant concern or an attack but heard nothing.

Foggy snorted humorlessly. “Born and raised. When your mom’s the woman who runs half of the operation, it’s hard to avoid getting sucked into the family business. My older siblings were groomed for management positions, off the street, safe as you can get in this business. But me? My mom wanted me to be a butcher. An assassin.” He spat the last word out with disgust.

Matt shifted. He couldn’t imagine it. Foggy, an assassin? It was insane, incomprehensible. Not his Foggy.

Foggy continued, “They - they have a particular way of training butchers. They always start them young; young enough that they don’t attract attention from the police, and young enough that they don’t know the meaning of what they’re doing.” Foggy turned the gun over in his hands. His voice shaking as bad as his hands he continued, “I was eight when I shot a gun for the first time. I was nine the first time I killed a man.”

Matt felt his heart break; he could hear the pain in Foggy’s voice as he admitted this secret to Matt. “Oh, God, _Foggy – ”_

_“_ I’m not finished,” Foggy interrupted. “I didn’t understand what he had done – they explained it to me, but all I made out was that he didn’t do what he was told and that what I was going to do to him was what happened when people don’t do what they’re told. I didn’t need any more than that, really. He never saw it coming until I had the gun in his face. He had just enough time for the fear to come into his eyes. Or maybe he knew it was coming, and the fear had been there long before I was. Either way, that fear was all I saw in his eyes when they closed.”

When Foggy paused, as if not sure how to say what was still left to be said, what was truly weighing on him, Matt didn’t know what to say. He wanted to reach out to Foggy, to protect him from what was haunting him, but something in his gut told him that right now, that would only make things worse.

“It wasn’t until his kid showed up that I started to realize what I had done. That I had taken away a life. A person.” He swallowed. “Someone’s _father.”_

_Oh, God..._ Thought Matt, horrified and terrified. Had they found out who Foggy was? Was that who had scared Foggy so much? He didn’t smell any blood, and Foggy, though he was upset he didn’t appear to be in any physical pain. Emotional, certainly. But he hadn’t been attacked and beaten. Not yet anyway.

“Foggy...” Matt’s voice was thick with tears. If this was too painful for Foggy to tell, he didn’t want him to do so; he refused to listen to what his gut was saying.

That he didn’t want to hear what Foggy was about to say.

“The kid was my age – ”

“Foggy, _please_ don’t – ”

“--and blind.”

_No._ Matt’s breathing stopped in his chest. _No no no no no..._ He shook his head violently, hands over his ears. Or maybe his whole body was shaking. He couldn’t block out Foggy’s words as they echoed in his head, or the heartbeat which confirmed that what he was saying was true.

Flashes of memories from that day, sounds and feelings and ‘visions’ and emotions. He wanted to run away, to run away and never look back until he had exhausted himself and blacked out.

Foggy continued, “Normally, these days, you would kill any kids old enough to hold a grudge, especially boys. But things were different back then, and since the kid was blind, nobody thought anything of letting him go.” He chuckled, and Matt could smell a tear. “I guess the joke’s on them now, huh?”

Rage, pure and hot and _there_ spiked through Matt. “You - you _told - ?”_

He couldn’t even put it into words. _You told them about Daredevil? You told them about me?! Us?!_

Rage, anger, betrayal burned painfully through Matt’s veins, singing for him to fight, defend himself, destroy the threat.

Destroy _Foggy._

_“_ Told what?” Foggy jumped to his feet, sweaty hand clenching tightly around the gun. “That you’re the masked menace that’s been terrorizing them for months? That you’re the one who’s been singlehandedly dismantling their operation piece by piece?” He laughed. “You should have known better than to mess with us, Matt.”

Matt wanted to deny what Foggy was saying as he sat there, hunched over. He wanted to say it was all lies, that someone had threatened him, put him up to this to hurt him, to split them apart once again. Hell, he’d take this all being a nightmare.

But he knew it wasn’t.

“Did - ” Matt had to swallow down the rage and pain of betrayal, knowing the answers to the questions he was about was about to ask were only going to hurt him more. “Did you – were we – was any of it – was it real?”

Was our friendship real? School, after, anything and everything in between. Was any of it real?

Foggy snorted, voice cold. “I’ve been lying to you for _years,_ Murdock. Don’t make me start being honest now.”

Matt’s broken heart shattered. He needed – well, he couldn’t have what he truly needed; for none of this to be real – but he would take getting the _hell_ out of there before he did something he would regret. “I - I need to get out – ”

The safety on the gun clicked off. “Stop right there!” Foggy demanded, raising and cocking the gun as he aimed it at Matt. “The only way you’re leaving here tonight is over my dead body!”

_No... Foggy, please..._

He wouldn’t... Foggy wouldn’t... would he?

**He killed your _father!_ Of course he would!**

“Foggy, _please,_ you don’t want to do this...”

_Don’t make me defend myself. You won’t survive._

_“_ Come on, Matt, I already killed one Murdock. It’d be nothing for me to take down one more.”

Matt’s eyes shut, his body shifting ever so slightly, ready to attack, defend... die... he wasn’t sure.

Even if he was forced to defend himself, and he hurt Foggy… or worse… afterward, he didn’t know what he would do without Foggy in his life, or if he could even survive the experience, be it because he no longer had a reason to stay safe and come home at night, or because the grief ate him whole.

Either way, he… lost.

But then his ears caught on to what Foggy’s heart was saying.

He was lying.

But _why?!_ Why admit to killing Matt’s father – that much had been true, as agonizing as it was – but _why_? Why was Foggy doing this?!

_“_ Just give me a reason, Murdock!” Foggy spat. “Come at me, I _dare_ you – ”

The words slipped out before Matt had completely thought them through. “You’re bluffing.”

“ _What?”_

Foggy’s heart pattered in fear. Fear of what? Why?

“You’re bluffing,” Matt repeated, “You’re not going to shoot.”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking lying?!” Foggy demanded. “You’re in _denial_ , Murdock. The truth isn’t always what you wish you could be hearing.”

“I know that!” Matt shouted; God, did he know that. Knowing that Foggy had killed his father wasn’t something he would ever forget, regardless of the fact he had been a brainwashed child. “But I know _you_. I _know_ you. I know that you wouldn’t do this to me. Not unless someone put you up to it.”

Foggy swallowed, heart hammering. “You think you know me? What the _fuck_ do you know about Foggy Nelson.” Matt heard the gun shift slightly. “You do not want to test me, Murdock.”

Lies, again.

Why was Foggy lying about _this_ , of all things? Why tell him the truth Foggy’s parentage and Matt’s father only to lie about everything else? What was his plan, his endgame? What the Hell was he thinking?!

“But I do,” Matt said, advancing slowly on Foggy, raised in non-aggression. Foggy stepped back, steadying the gun in his shaking hands. They continued the dance until Foggy had halted and Matt’s face was mere inches from the barrel of the gun. “If it’s true – if you never felt anything for me, if what we had was nothing but a – a game, then go ahead.” He covered Foggy’s hands with his own, raising the barrel of the gun until it rested against his forehead. “Shoot me. Believe me, at this point, you would be doing me a favor.” He closed his eyes against the tears before they slipped down his cheeks.

_If we were never friends... if you never loved me... if everything we’ve ever shared was a lie..._

_Then I have nothing..._

In front of him, Foggy stopped breathing. “I killed your father.” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I’m a _murderer!”_

“You were a _child.”_

Matt heard Foggy choke softly; he could smell the other man’s tears, feel him shaking in his hands, hear his heart pounding. “Fuck,” he muttered suddenly. The safety clicked into place and Foggy turned away. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

Matt released Foggy’s hands and opened his eyes.

_What?!_

“What do you mean? How was – how was _this_ supposed to go?!”

Foggy’s knees gave out under him, and it took all Matt’s willpower to not catch his best friend.

He needed to know what Foggy meant, why he had gone through this whole thing, confessed his darkest secret, and added lies on top of it, why his best friend would pull a gun on him and threaten to kill him.

“You’re supposed to hate me,” murmured Foggy, head bowed and the barrel of the gun clattering on the floor. “You’re supposed to leave. You’re supposed to punish me.”

_Punish me._

_Kill me._

Matt felt his heart break even further. His best friend had... he had wanted... God... he had wanted Matt to kill him in revenge and in self-defense. But kill him nonetheless.

More memories flashed through Matt’s mind, ones Foggy didn’t know he had.

Foggy had fought depression and self-harm in college. Matt lost count of the times he’d woken up to the scent of fresh blood and tears, or Foggy came out of the shower smelling of blood, or Foggy came back to their dorm room reeking of blood and booze. He’d desperately wanted to say something, to reach out to help but hadn’t known what to do without revealing his abilities. He’d settled for always being there for Foggy, trying to make the other man laugh and smile and know he could confide in him, which he had occasionally.

In the depths of his rage and grief mere moments ago, he had almost... he had almost _killed_ his Foggy. Matt’s ears were still roaring. He had… _God, Foggy_ …

No. It... that couldn’t be it... he tried to deny it, but...

“Is that what you want?” Matt asked, voice rough. “To be punished?”

The elation in Foggy’s heart made Matt want to throw up.

“Yes. Yes, please, Matt, _please,”_ Foggy was almost sobbing as he seized Matt’s hand and slipped the gun into it. “Please,” he repeated, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing his head in utter submission. “Please, just do it.”

Matt stared down at his friend, bowed in submission and sacrifice, having begged for his best friend to kill him. He could hear his friend’s heart settle as he waited for a bullet to tear through his brain, fired by his best friend, the child of his first and only victim.

There was no way he could do so; he also had to handle this carefully, because the last thing Matt wanted was Foggy to either seize the gun from Matt’s hands and turn it on himself or throw himself out the large open window to his right.

Matt sighed heavily. “Ok.”

Foggy’s heart sped up in joy before stuttering back into a semi-normal beat.

Resignation.

Relief.

Matt could almost hear Foggy’s own heart breaking; he could smell the tears streaming down his best friend’s face as he remained placated in front of him.

As Stick had taught him – one of the countless things – Matt started disassembling the gun, throwing the pieces alternatively through the open windows until his hands were empty.

Once again Foggy’s heart rate sped up, and his breathing stuttered almost to a complete halt before picking up almost to the point of a panic attack.

_He... Foggy... God... he thinks... he thinks I’m going to..._ Bile burned the back of Matt’s throat and his heart broke all over again at the realization. _Foggy thinks I’m going to_ beat _him to death?!_

Matt’s fears were confirmed when he knelt down in front of Foggy and reached for him only to have Foggy’s body to automatically tense in reaction to fear of being struck, his neck snapped, to be choked...

Matt pulled Foggy against his chest.

Foggy’s body was all but vibrating. “Matt, what are you – ”

“You don’t need to be punished, Foggy,” Matt murmured, voice heavy with emotion. “Nothing I could do would be worse than what you’ve already done to yourself.”

Foggy began to struggle against Matt’s grip. Afraid of losing him, afraid of what Foggy might do to himself – jump out the window, run out of the building and into traffic vanish into the city and do who-knew-what to himself – Matt adjusted his grip and held him closer.

Foggy kept fighting. “Goddamn it! What the fuck are you doing, then?”

Matt pressed his lips against Foggy’s temple. “I’m forgiving you.”

In Matt’s arms, Foggy broke completely. “No. No!” he tried to push Matt away. “Fuck you, you bastard! You fucking _coward!_ Let me go!”

Matt refused to let him go, no matter how much Foggy struggled, cried, pleaded. His heart was screaming in pain, still trying to process not just what Foggy had told him – that it had been him who had killed his father – but that Foggy hadn’t ever been planning – Hell, he’d been hoping – that Matt would be irate enough, broken enough by his words that he would kill him.

_Foggy had been hoping I would kill him... God..._

He rubbed circles and other shapes on Foggy’s shaking back; he had finally stopped struggling.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name...”

He recited the Lord’s Prayer over and over again as Foggy sobbed in his arms. He would have to keep an eye on him, make sure Foggy didn’t try and hurt himself, or worse.

It wouldn’t be the first time, but if Matt had anything to say about it, there wouldn’t be a next or last time.

Go _d... I can’t... I can’t lose him... he’s my best friend…_

_I love him._


End file.
